A serenade
by FPB
Summary: There are nights that seem made on purpose to sing one's heart out to the woman you love. There are nights in which it is all too easy to get your heart broken.


The further north one goes (within reason), the longer and sweeter are the days of late spring. The sun seems to dawdle over the horizon, unwilling to set, just for the pleasure of watching the land, only a few months ago locked in frost and snow, blossom bright green and every colour of the rainbow. And there are, from time to time, cloudless days in which the light simply shades off from sunlight, through dusk, to deep, luminous starlight, and a moon so bright you would think you can see as clear as day – but for the mad chance that has painted everything sterling silver: the silver sea, quietly lapping at the shore, the silver grass and brush rising from the seaside in soft yet steep hills, the great silver rocks that rise from time to time like the bones of the land, and the walls and battlements that dominate valley and firth. These are the days which the fifth and seventh years at Hogwarts rarely get to enjoy, for they are all so busy with their revision; and yet they should, for those are the days that lovers might remember all their lives.  
  
One such day in early June had lasted so long that the fractious sun had not gone to bed earlier than the students themselves. Now the moon stole over the enchanted courtyards; and so did one small figure – small by comparison with the glorious Gothic towers and the mighty battlements of the school, for in the last five years Colin Creevey had grown. From the tiny, childish, enthusiastic figure throwing himself right and left and cheerfully making a fool of himself, there had blossomed a tall, lanky, angular, raw-boned young man with a dusting of freckles on a pale fair skin and light blue eyes with what Stevenson called "a kind of dancing madness" in them under a thick thatch of blonde hair. He was still fearless, and there was nothing hidden or nervous about the act I have called "stealing"; he simply moved across the courtyard, making no noise – for the noise would have detracted from the effect he wanted. He stopped under the bulk of Slytherin house, drew out a large, beautiful, enchanted lyre, and started playing. Then one of the loveliest tunes ever composed swept across the deserted quadrangle:  
  
Leise fliehen meine Lieder  
  
Durch die Nacht zu dir...  
  
It was a good voice, just got over the broken tones of puberty into a sound, rounded baritone, and had undertaken some training just for this. Colin was brave, enthusiastic enough to conceive this mad scheme, but not stupid: if the school's music expert (who was, strangely enough, the dumpy Herbology expert Professor Sprout) had decreed his singing hopeless, he would just have found another way to express what he felt.  
  
But sing he could, and sing he did. A spell made sure that most of the sound reached a particular window in Slytherin house, but he did not focus it more than so much. His teacher had warned him against messing with the natural quality of the voice, and besides, he was not out to hide anything he was going to do tonight. He loved Daphne Greengrass, and if the whole of Hogwarts knew it, he did not mind. Truth to tell, he was rather proud of it. Next came the most beautiful of the many beautiful serenades to burst out of that land of song, Naples:  
  
Quant'è bbella a Muntagna stanotte,  
  
Chiù bbella'e mmò nun l'aggio vista maie.  
  
N'anema pare, rassegnata e stanca  
  
Sutta a fenesta, e questa luna bbianca!  
  
Tu ccà nun chiagne..  
  
...and then a rather more modern item:  
  
I give her all my love,  
  
That's all I do,  
  
And you saw my love  
  
You'd love her too...  
  
...and then exultant French:  
  
Le ciel bleu sur nous peut s'effondrer  
  
Et la terre peut bien s'écrouler –  
  
Que m'importe, si tu m'aimes!  
  
Je me fout du monde entier...  
  
By this time, most of the school was awake and listening. The impulse of many would have been to throw shoes or other objects at the singer, but two factors interfered. First, the singing was really good; and second, everyone was crawling with curiosity. Colin had chosen his time well. Although this was about bedtime in all the four houses, nobody in Sytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Gryffindor was actually likely to be asleep. And the Slytherins, who would temperamentally be more apt than anyone else to start throwing things, were held by the fact that it was to one of them that the strange night singer was pleading. The teachers in their various rooms just stood and listened.  
  
And then it happened. Colin had just launched into that song that expresses perhaps better than any other one the very sense and feel of love:  
  
When you're weary,  
  
Feeling small,  
  
When tears are in your eyes,  
  
I'll dry them all.  
  
I'll take your part  
  
Oh when times get rough  
  
And friends just can't be found  
  
Like a bridge over troubled wa-  
  
...when a door opened in the dark shadowed hulk of the Slytherin building. There was no chance that Colin could mistake that figure, outlined by the light within, and he fell silent as abruptly as if his power had been cut. But Daphne stepped forwards and said quietly, "Oh, what a pity. Go on, Colin, please... it was so beautiful." And Colin resumed the song, ending in a splendid, full-throated blast:  
  
...I'm sailing right behind!  
  
Like a bridge over troubled waters,  
  
I will take your side!  
  
From many windows around the courtyard came a ripple of applause, and a few hesitant wolf-whistles.  
  
Daphne took Colin by the hand and took him aside; and in spite of his being nearly eleven inches taller, there was something in that gesture of a mother and a child. "That was very brave, Colin," she said, holding his hand lightly. "You have declared your love in front of the whole school. I could have humiliated you or rejected you in public, but I don't think you deserve that."  
  
Colin felt himself go cold inside. All this explanation seemed to prelude to something. People just did not start that way when they wanted to say "I love you too" or "I think you are dead cute" or even "Well, I don't mind going out with you for a while." Being Colin Creevey, he took the bull by the horns.  
  
"But---?" he asked, letting her understand that he could see where this was heading.  
  
"But I wish you had fallen for someone else. You deserve to succeed. You deserve a nice girl to love you and keep you warm... and that's what I'd love too, Colin."  
  
"What - ? you mean...?" he stuttered, looking at her, so feminine from her long smooth black hair to her elegant shoes.  
  
"Yes, indeed," she said with a shy, sad little smile. Interpreting his glance, she added "Not all of us have cropped hair and butch looks and tattoos, Colin. I love beauty and elegance and I do my best to achieve it in my life." Then, more dreamily: "It's so nice when you can look at the mirror and something looks back that looks like something you'd like... You know, I can never believe that that beautiful creature in the mirror is me."  
  
Colin said nothing. She looked at him. She saw his jaw set and trembling, and his eyes full of tears.  
  
"I'm sorry, Colin."  
  
"No... no chance?"  
  
"No chance" she said sadly, turning to him to touch him lightly on the cheek. And she went away, hardly noticing the great sob that shook him from top to toe and the fact that he was suddenly sitting down, as if too weak to stand any more. 


End file.
